


Death Cannot

by Karis_Artemisia_Judith



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Turned Into a Ghost, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Off-screen death, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karis_Artemisia_Judith/pseuds/Karis_Artemisia_Judith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while." - The Princess Bride</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death Cannot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [upthenorthmountain (aw264641)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aw264641/gifts).



Kristoff crouched down on the floor and surveyed the area under the bed critically. “No monsters here,” he announced.

A chubby little finger pointed to the closet. He got up with a grunt and went to open it, revealing a row of brightly colored dresses, a few shelves of folded clothes, an overflowing bin of blocks and other toys. Kristoff solemnly examined them all.

“No monsters here either,” he said, but he left the light on anyway.

The little girl in the crib was three and a half, her red hair just long enough to form two little pigtails. It was very important, he had learned, for her hair to be in pigtails before bed. Ella’s hair had an amazing capacity for knots, and there had been a few times when he’d worried that he’d be forced it cut it off. Kristoff stroked a hand over her head. He bent down to kiss her forehead and tucked up her blanket.

“You’re always safe,” he promised. “There’s someone watching over you.”

 

Kristoff stayed for a few minutes, until Ella was fast asleep, her stuffed reindeer doll tucked close under her chin. In the room across the hall, Kristoff settled gratefully onto the left side of the big bed.

“She’s definitely your daughter, Anna,” he muttered. “Four adventure stories before she would go to bed, and more imagination than anyone else I’ve ever met. Half the time I don’t know what she’s talking about. Today she told me in great detail all about a castle, and talking snowmen–”

Kristoff’s lips twitched in a smile as he recounted Ella’s far-fetched stories, but eventually his voice trailed off. He sighed wearily, checked his alarm–early day tomorrow, they were all early days–then rolled over.

“Goodnight, Anna,” he whispered.

In the darkness, the empty pillow didn’t answer.

But, as he fell asleep, a soft voice just on the edge of hearing said “Goodnight.”

 –

Anna was humming in the kitchen when Kristoff walked in. He yawned.

“What are you doing up so early?”

Anna shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Needed pancakes with chocolate sauce.” She leaned her head back so that he could kiss her. “It’s going to be a beautiful day. Here, eat your pancakes. It’ll be time for you to get up soon.”

Kristoff blinked, fork halfway to his mouth. “What?”

Anna’s cool fingers stroked over his cheek and she smiled at him. “Time to wake up,” she whispered.

 –

Kristoff’s hand smacked down on the alarm. It took a minute for him to orient himself–he could have sworn the smell of pancakes and chocolate was lingering in the air. Pancakes with chocolate sauce. Only Anna could have come up with something like that.

He sighed and pushed himself up out of bed, padding across the hall to check on Ella. She was babbling happily to herself, chattering like a magpie, but as soon as the door opened she started trying to climb the side of her crib. When Kristoff got close she launched herself into his arms.

“How did you turn out to be a morning person?” he asked, hoisting her up.

“Daddy, I wanna pancake!” Ella said. Kristoff paused, and Ella started to squirm. “Pancakes, Daddy!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. He had to swallow hard. “Okay, we’ll have pancakes.”

“With choc'late?”

“Yes.” He kissed her head lightly. “With chocolate sauce.”

 –

Kristoff dropped Ella off with Bulda for the day, went to work, then joined Bulda and her current brood of foundlings for dinner. The noise and bustle were distracting, even pleasant. But as he strapped Ella into her carseat, he caught Bulda giving him a worried look.

“What is it, Ma?”

She shook her head. “I wish you’d move back in with me for a bit, is all. Just for a while. I worry about you in that house on your own.”

Kristoff closed the car door and leaned on it. “I can’t leave,” he said. “I just can’t, Ma. We put so much work into the place, and she loved it so much.”

The house had been a disaster when Anna found it, but it had good bones, and she’d casually said that she was sure her talented builder boyfriend could fix it. She’d run her hand down his arm at the same time, looked up at him through her eyelashes–and then cracked up because as sexy as she could be, being intentionally sultry wasn’t Anna’s strong point. Instead she’d hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him on the nose, giggling.

The next day he’d bought the house.

He didn’t even tell her he’d bought it until he was ready to stand on the rickety, creaking porch to propose. After she’d said yes (and after she had almost knocked him down in her rush to kiss him), Kristoff had carried Anna over the threshold and into six months of swearing and minor disasters, rusting pipes and rotten floors and mold in the walls. Six months of Anna gleefully learning to use power tools, and talking about colors until Elsa banned paint chips from her apartment, and take-out dinners eaten while sitting in the middle of the sawdust and mess.

Blood and sweat and tears and laughter were all etched into the walls of the little house. It had made sense to get married on the porch he’d rebuilt, the day before they moved in, just a small ceremony with close friends. The start of their new life together, in their new home.

Kristoff carried his daughter up those same porch steps. He couldn’t leave. Leaving would be like losing Anna all over again.

 –

“Daddy?” Kristoff paused in the middle of braiding Ella’s hair. He’d worked out that an episode of a brightly colored tv-show would keep her still just long enough to let him comb out her red curls and plait them. Usually the little girl was totally absorbed.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Did Mommy have red hair?”

“Yeah, she did. She had hair just likes yours.”

“Where did she go?”

Kristoff twisted a hair tie around the end of the braid and wrapped his arms around his daughter.

“She went to a beautiful place,” he said softly. “But even though she can’t–she can’t come back, she’s not far away. She watches over you. Remember that, okay? She loved you. Loves you. And she’ll always be here for you.”

 –

Ella wasn’t satisfied with storybooks that night–she begged to look at the big white photo album, at the pictures of a young woman in a lacy dress, her hair crowned with flowers. After the ceremony on the porch he’d scooped Anna up in his arms and carried her through the door of their new home, where he could kiss her as passionately as he wanted without all their friends watching. But one friend had taken a picture through the window, and Ella paused at the image of him with Anna pressed tight to his chest, his hand mussing her upswept hair.

Kristoff remembered the day so clearly that it hurt, like a bright shard of ice digging into his chest. Anna had been so tired–she hadn’t slept at all, he didn’t think she’d slept for weeks, and she was full of coffee and nerves, but she was smiling every moment. He hadn’t slept much either, between his own nerves and working night and day to make the house livable. His hands had kept shaking until Anna dropped her small bouquet and clasped his fingers tightly in hers.

With Ella finally in bed, he tiptoed across the hall and sat for a long time with the album in his hands before he put it away on the shelf of the nightstand. He lay down and stared at the ceiling.

“She’s so like you, Anna,” he said. “She’s so clever. And brave–today she climbed to the top of the playground without help.” Kristoff sighed, flicking off the light. “I miss you,” he whispered. As he fell asleep there was the faintest brush of something soft against his nose.

 –

Kristoff felt fingers combing through his bangs, brushing the hair back from his face.

“Anna,” he mumbled. The hand pressed against his cheek.

“I’m here.”

“I’m scared to open my eyes,” he whispered. “I’m scared you won’t still be here.”

“I’m always here.”

His eyes opened slowly, and there she was–Anna, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hair shining in the moonlight that poured through the window. She looked radiant. Kristoff could only stare at her.

She shrugged, biting her lip a little. “What?”

“Nothing, just–you’re beautiful.”  _Beautiful, ethereal, impossibly perfect_ , except then she grinned at him and she was his feisty, earthy Anna. He  _knew_  her, like he knew his heartbeat.

Kristoff reached out and she laid her head on his chest, letting him wrap her in his arms. She smelled like summer flowers. It was as though he were inhaling for the first time after a long winter.

He held Anna close, started to drift back into sleep, and there was a noise from across the hall. Kristoff sighed.

“Ella’s awake.”

“I’ll go to her,” Anna said. “You need to sleep.”

She slipped out of his arms and disappeared through the doorway. Kristoff closed his eyes–and woke up, wondering why his pillow smelled like sweet-pea, honeysuckle, and lily.

 –

Kristoff dug through the cabinet, hunting and hunting for the jar that should be there.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I can’t find–” He turned to find that Ella had toddled into the pantry. Her little hands held up the jar of Nutella.

“Here, Daddy!”

“Thanks, sweetie. How did it get in there?” He eyed his daughter. “Did you put it there?”

Ella shook her head. “Not me, Daddy.”

Kristoff, after making the peanut-butter and Nutella sandwiches, carefully put the jar where it belonged on the top shelf of the cabinet. The next day Ella threw a fit in the grocery store, and he leveled his most severe punishment–no Nutella for two days. But the next time he looked for it, the jar wasn’t where he’d left it. He found it on the middle shelf of the pantry.

“Ella, did you move this?” he asked. She shook her head. “Can you tell me why it was in the pantry?”

She shook her head again, then paused. “Because–it belongs there,” Ella said. “The cabinet is too high.”

“Ella, it’s high on purpose. Getting out the Nutella is a job for Daddy, remember? If you climb up on the counter you could get hurt.” Kristoff paused. Even standing on the counter, Ella wouldn’t be able to reach the high shelf. He resolved to keep a closer eye on her.

 –

Early morning light was washing over the kitchen, and Kristoff paused in the door, blinking. He couldn’t remember why he was there. He sniffed.

“Anna?” She poked her head around the fridge door. The mug in her hand, hot chocolate laced with coffee, sent curls of steam into the air.

“We’re out of eggs,” she announced. “AND diapers.”

“I’ll run to the store,” he said.

“Nope, it’s my turn.” She closed the fridge. “You get ready for work, I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Don’t go–” he started to say.

Anna stood up on her toes to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll just get eggs and diapers. And maybe  _one_  chocolate bar.” She picked up her purse and he caught her hand, sudden panic spreading through him.

“Anna, don’t go. You don’t have to go.”

She shook her head and leaned up to kiss him again. “I’ll be right back,” she promised. Her hand slipped from his grip and she was gone. Kristoff ran out the door, but the car was already on the road, hitting the patch of ice, skidding—

–“Daddy?” A little hand patted at his wet face. “Daddy, wake up.”

Kristoff choked down the cry that wanted to burst out of him. It hadn’t happened like that. It had been evening. It had been milk. Milk and bananas. The accident had been five miles away, not in front of their house. And he hadn’t seen it, hadn’t heard the squeal of tires, the crunch of impact. But he still dreamed about it. He wiped a hand over his face and sat up. Ella stood by the bed in her green nightdress, doll in hand.

“Ella, sweetheart, what are you doing up?”

Ella solemnly handed her doll to him, then held up her arms to be lifted onto his lap.

“How did you get out of your crib, Houdini?” he asked. She shrugged, yawning, and cuddled into him.

“Were you having a bad dream, Daddy?”

“Yeah.” He kissed the top of her head and hugged her warm little body close to his chest. “Wanna stay wit’ you,” she mumbled. Kristoff lay down, tucking the little girl in beside him. The pain in his chest eased just a little.

As he fell asleep, Kristoff thought he felt a faint brush of air over his cheek, like a kiss. The blanket over him shifted, drawing up over his shoulder as if moved by an invisible hand.

 –

The day after Ella had woken him from his nightmare, Kristoff checked the little girl’s room. How _had_  she managed to get out of her crib? He’d been so careful to make the room safe—with her irrepressible desire to climb  _everything_ , he’d been terrified that she’d fall or pull something down on herself. She definitely shouldn’t be able to scale the high sides of the crib yet–she was growing fast, but she was still small. Everyone said she’d be petite, like her mother.

Kristoff shook his head. He’d get one of those baby monitors with a video connection, he thought. One for the kitchen, too, since someone was still moving the Nutella around. He hated to punish his daughter for something when he hadn’t actually caught her in the act, and before now Ella had never lied to him repeatedly. Now she was suggesting that ‘the nice lady’ might have moved the jar. Maybe one of his foster sisters had stopped by–the key hidden at the back door wasn’t a secret from family.

But the Nutella jar mysteriously shifting from the cabinet to the pantry was just the beginning. He kept reaching for the toothpaste only to find it placed on the wrong side of the counter. The dolls on Ella’s dresser seemed to rearrange themselves. And he kept smelling chocolate in the air, even outside. He wondered if Ma was right, if he needed to move out for a while–but he ran a hand over the wall, re-painted four times 'to get it right’. He couldn’t leave.

 –

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart, just a second.” Kristoff hastily shoved cold groceries in the refrigerator, then turned to look at his daughter. Ella was frowning up at him, her little face serious.

“Daddy, are you sad?”

“I—why do you ask, sweetie?” He crouched down and reached out to smooth the messy, wayward curls back from her face. “Is something wrong?”

Ella started to shake her head, then shrugged. “I don’t know, Daddy. But she said she wished you weren’t sad. Are you sad? Because if you’re sad, maybe you should eat ice cream. When I’m sad I want ice cream. Are you still sad if you have ice cream?”

“Ella, the ice cream is for after dinner,” he reminded her. “Who said I shouldn’t be sad? Was is Nana Bulda?” He adored his mother but he’d have to ask her not to talk about him in front of Ella….

“No, Daddy, not Nana. The lady who likes chocolate. She said—”

“What lady? Ella, we talked about strangers. Where was this lady?”

“In the house, Daddy. She was in my room.”

Kristoff picked Ella up and stood, looking around quickly, pulse suddenly racing. It was only when Ella squirmed that he realized he’d clutched her protectively to his chest. She was only three, and she was always making up strange stories, and if she had an imaginary friend then it did not mean that a strange woman was breaking into their house. He took a deep breath.

“What did this lady look like, sweetie?”

“Like her picture, Daddy. Like in the book.” She squirmed again and he set her down. Ella trotted down the hall on her chubby legs and went into the master bedroom. As he followed her through the door she was already pulling the wedding album off of its shelf by the bed. “This book, Daddy! The lady is in this book.”

“Ella—sweetheart—” He sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted the little girl onto his lap. “Are you talking about Mommy?” She nodded vigorously, pointing to the picture of a smiling Anna.

“She tells me stories. And she sings to me.”

“Ella—” Kristoff closed his eyes for a moment as memories washed over him— _Anna, curled up in bed and stroking the curve of her stomach while she talked, telling the story of how she’d gotten lost on a hike and stumbled into a campsite, and how she’d bribed the grumpy guy she met to lead her back to civilization….she’d managed to make a five hour walk punctuated with bickering sound romantic. And then Anna, lying in the same position with a tiny bundle of blankets on her chest, stroking the tuft of soft red hair, and singing, not a lullaby, but a jingle from a chocolate commercial. She’d said it was the only think she could remember when she was so sleep-deprived._ Anna _._

“Daddy?”

“Ella, your mommy isn’t here,” he whispered. His voice was rough and he swallowed. “She had to go away, remember?”

Ella shook her head. “She didn’t go away, you said she watches over me.”

“She does, but—but from far away. She isn’t where you can see her.”

Pale blue eyes looked up at him, and for a moment it was like looking into the stubborn eyes of Anna again. “She  _is_  because I  _can_ , Daddy,” Ella said firmly. “She watches over us. She wants you not to be sad.”

“I’m not—” Kristoff took a deep breath. “Ella, you shouldn’t make up things about your mother,” he said. “Please. I don't—you just can’t, okay?”

“I didn’t, Daddy!”

“Ella, just—” He bit the words off and set Ella on her feet. “You need to go play in your room. I have to finish the groceries. You can play with your blocks until I come and get you.”

“Daddy, I don’t  _want_ —”

“I said go play in your room.”

“But Daddy, Mommy  _said_ —”

“No! Do not talk about—Ella, just go to your room, okay?”

“But–!”

“Now, Ella!”

She was big enough to slam the door and he could hear her overturning the box of blocks. And the box of other toys. And probably everything else in reach. In the kitchen, Kristoff tried to finish putting food away but his hands were shaking. He turned on the faucet to splash his face with water, then leaned against the sink, shoulders slumped.

Life went on. It was something a well-meaning friend had said to him, not long after the funeral–Kristoff had nearly hit the man in the face. But Ma had pulled him away and shoved a bewildered, fussy Ella into his arms.

'Your baby needs you,’ she’d said firmly.

Life had to go on. Diapers had to be changed. Red curls had to be braided. Meals had to be made. Something had to go on, even if it didn’t quite feel like he was living.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered hoarsely. “God, Anna, I can’t do this. I can’t do this without you.” He should have left, he should have moved months ago, should have given up—he couldn’t raise a daughter on his own, when he couldn’t even inhale without his chest aching with grief. Life was supposed to go on, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, and a dead man had no business raising a child. “I can’t do this alone.”

There was a light touch on his back, and Kristoff stiffened. The cool hand ran across his tense shoulders, slipped down his spine, and when he breathed in he could smell chocolate and summer flowers. Anna’s shampoo had smelled like flowers. On the edge of the sink his knuckles whitened.

“You aren’t alone.” The words were so soft that he thought he’d imagined them. Then the phantom touch slipped around his waist and he could feel her, could feel the press of her cheek against his back, the shape of her body against him. Kristoff shut his eyes tightly.

“Anna—”

“I’m here.”

“Am I going crazy?”

“Only if you think I would ever leave you.”

“But…but you…You died.”

“There are some things even death can’t stop.”

His eyes still closed, Kristoff fumbled, his fingers searching across his own torso until he found a small, familiar hand. It curled around his, and he pressed it against his heart.

“Anna,” he whispered. “ _Anna_.”

“I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He felt the ghost of a kiss across the nape of his neck, but when he turned around the room was empty.

 -

 _–Sixty-four years later_ —

 -

“Daddy?”

Ella tucked a curl of hair behind her ear—pale white now, but still curly. She found her father on the porch. He was still a big man, but he’d gotten a little stooped, and a little tired. These days he spent most of his time in a comfortable chair on the porch, 'resting’. Brown eyes smiled up at her.

“I was awake,” he promised. She stooped to kiss his forehead.

“Of course you were, Daddy. I hope the kids didn’t wear you out.”

There had been a swarm of children and grandchildren in the house the day before—Ella’s three children and their spouses had all visited with their children. Her oldest granddaughter, another Ella, had brought the newest addition to the family, only a month old. Kristoff had held the baby for a long time, while the chaos of the family reunion went on around him, and Grace was sure that little baby Anna had smiled for him.

“I liked it,” he said. “Your mother liked it, too. Did you see her?”

“Just for a minute. You know how it is. It was easier to see her when I was little.”

He nodded. “I didn’t see her. But I could feel her.”

“Yeah. You should come in soon, Daddy, it’s getting chilly.”

“In a minute, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hand, and Ella went back inside to finish tidying up.

Teresa was in the kitchen, and gave Ella a peck on the cheek as she went past. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s exhausted,” Ella said. “He won’t admit it, though.”

“Old men can get tough like that,” Teresa agreed. “ _I’m_  tired, and I’m not even in my nineties.”

“You’re allowed to be tired at seventy, darling, even when you don’t look your age.” Ella winked at her partner and got flicked with water for her trouble, although Teresa followed it up with a kiss. They put away dishes in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then Teresa glanced through the window. “Who on earth is that?” she asked.

“What?”

“Out there on the porch, that young couple. Are they relatives of your dad’s? I thought he didn’t have any extended family, but this guy looks a lot like those old pictures you showed me, is he—Ella?” She stopped, staring at Ella’s face. “Honey, what is it? Why are you crying?”

“Nothing,” Ella said, wiping at her face. The vision of the couple, wrapped in a tight embrace, wavered as she blinked away tears. “It’s just…I’ll explain later.”

She went to the door, and as she opened it the smell of chocolate and summer flowers washed over her. For a moment she could still see them, tall man and a petite woman with red hair, their hands clasped, stepping off of the porch.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.


	2. Epilogue: Reunion

Kristoff blinked awake—not that he’d been asleep, of course. He’d just been resting. And he really felt rested for once; better than he had in a long time. The deep ache that had settled into his body was gone, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of him. He stood up, and something clattered to the wooden boards of the porch. A cane had been leaning against his knee–the cane that he’d needed for years. But he didn’t seem to need it now. His legs felt strong and steady under him, and his hands—Kristoff looked down, turning his wrists and flexing his fingers. The mottling of age spots was gone, leaving his skin calloused, but supple enough. The knuckles were no longer swollen and painful. He straightened his back, drawing up to his full height for the first time…how long? It was hard to remember, as the aches and twinges melted away from his body and his memory.

He drew in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. There was a sweet smell, not exactly the cold smell of the chilly wind, but…chocolate, and summer flowers. He looked up.

Anna’s hair was shining around her shoulders, her lace dress swirling around her in the breeze. The sun glowed around her, as if she had brought the summer with her. She always had, for him.

She held out her hands and with one step Kristoff had scooped her up, lifting her and spinning her around. Anna was laughing, Anna was smiling at him, Anna was warm and real and he pressed her close and kissed her without letting her bare feet touch the ground.

She leaned her forehead against his. “Hello,” she whispered.

“You’re here,” he said. He kissed her again.

“I’ve always been here,” she told him, and her fingers stroked over his cheeks.

“I love you. Anna, my Anna—I missed you.” His fingers tangled in her hair as his lips touched hers again, desperate to feel her warmth, to taste her.

“I never left you,” she whispered against his mouth. “Never. But…I missed kissing you. So much.” Kristoff laughed softly, although it was muffled when Anna pulled his head down again. Eventually she pulled away, but only so that she could nestle her head into its accustomed spot against his shoulder. She had always fit into his arms just so, against his heart. He pressed his lips against her hair.

“I missed this. I missed being able to hold you. I’m never letting go of you again.”

“You’ll never have to.” He breathed in sharply, and Anna tilted her face up to his and cupped his jaw in her small palm.

“What happens after this?”

“I’m not sure—I was waiting for you.” She laced her fingers through his and pulled him gently toward the steps. “Whatever it is, we’ll find out together.”

He paused at the edge, glancing back. Ella had appeared in the doorway of the old house. She was smiling, though tears were running down her cheeks. “Goodbye, sweetheart,” Kristoff whispered. He wasn’t sure she could hear him, but when he lifted his hand she waved back. Anna touched her lips, blowing a kiss, just as she had when Ella was a baby. Their daughter’s lips moved in response.  _Goodbye_.

“She’ll find us, when it’s time,” Anna said. She squeezed his hand. “Elsa found me, before she went on. And I think,” she added, “that you’re finally going to meet my parents, sometime soon. They aren’t far away. Are you ready?”

In the doorway, Teresa had appeared to wrap Ella in a hug. Kristoff looked down at Anna, shining beside him. He scooped her up in his arms. “I’m ready,” he said, and kissed her as he stepped off the porch into the bright sunshine. “As long as I’m with you.”


End file.
